The Benefits of Distance
by rabidcrazygirl
Summary: Set during the "end of the world" from "Doctor Who," Jack Harkness reflects on his relationship with Ianto Jones. In chapter two, Martha and Ianto meet by chance. Total Janto fluff on both counts.
1. Jack

**This is my first Torchwood fic. I got the dreaded Plot Bunny and just had to get it out. Basically, it's just a fluffy Janto piece about Jack musing on his relationship with Ianto during "The Last of the Time Lords" of "Doctor Who." Cute and sweet. I hope you enjoy!**

**Disclaimer: I am as poor as two…very poor things. I own nothing, especially not Gareth David-Lloyd, a fact that sends me to sleep crying every night.**

It was a funny old thing, death. The first time he'd died, it had been the most difficult thing to do in the entire world. When he'd woken up, disoriented and confused, he'd had the unique experience of all his preconceptions about life being shattered at once. Not comfortable by any means.

From then on, though, it had gotten easier, until the act of dying became simply a nuisance. It was one state of being from which he'd quickly pass, and after taking the job with Torchwood (or being _forced_ to take the job with Torchwood), he'd gotten into the habit of performing a quick mental check of himself and his surroundings whenever he woke up in the morning to see whether he'd been sleeping or, you know…the other thing. It was a 50-50 shot.

Of course now…now, locked up by a maniacal Time Lord with little hope and no freedom, it was a completely different matter. Death wasn't any more permanent than it had been before, but it felt as though it was because every time he woke up, he found himself wondering, _How many more? How many more lives had been lost as he wasted his time with failed escape attempts and doomed bids for liberty? How many children had died while he lay helpless and lifeless on the floor, no matter how temporary the state might be for him?_

And the thought that most frequently crossed his mind (and he felt slightly ashamed for admitting this because one life shouldn't be worth more than another) was, _is he still alive?_

Before he'd met the Doctor, he'd never have dwelt on the wellbeing of anyone, least of all an innocuous nobody like Ianto Jones. But it all seemed so important now. At the end of the world, dying day after day, his priorities were thrown into sharp relief from the mundane nothings of day-to-day life. And one of those priorities was definitely Ianto.

_"Would you ever leave us?" The younger man's husky voice had been quiet as he lay still, chin tucked up against Jack's bare chest. Jack chuckled, running his hand through Ianto's hair._

_"You mean, will I ever leave you," he corrected. Ianto shifted to look up at him, blue eyes meeting blue, his intense gaze and Jack's laughing one._

_"No," Ianto said. "Would you ever leave us. The team. Torchwood."_

_Despite his cocky attitude, Jack felt a little hurt by Ianto's demanding—and distinctly impersonal—question. It had not been what he'd expected from him, but then over the past few weeks he'd been learning that Ianto Jones was full of surprises, not the least of which being a hidden Cyberwoman-girlfriend in the basement._

_"You know I'm waiting for someone to fix me," Jack said, hauling himself into a sitting position so that Ianto was forced to draw back and sit up as well. Rather than remain by Jack, Ianto stood and began to get dressed, his back towards his lover. Jack was overwhelmed with a sense of guilt that he didn't quite comprehend. "The Doctor. If he comes, I might have to go away with him. I don't want to go on like this forever."_

_"How d'you mean?" Ianto asked without turning around. "Immortal?"_

_"Yeah," Jack whispered, running a hand through his hair. "But it's more than that. Hey—look at me." He reached out and placed a hand on Ianto's shoulder, forcing him to turn around. The younger man did so reluctantly, meeting Jack's eyes with his own, and Jack couldn't help noticing the fiery spark that he'd come to grow so fond of glowing bright and fierce in Ianto's frustrated gaze._

_"As long as I can never die," he said, "then I can never love. I can't afford to." Ianto rolled his eyes and let out his breath in an angry sigh. "You have to understand me. Just because my body can't die doesn't mean that my soul can't either. Every time I love someone, and then have to leave them, it's like a little piece of me is dying for real."_

Over this year, he'd died more deaths than he ever had before, and every time he woke up to the sounds of that one conversation echoing through his skull. _ I can never love. I can never love. I can never love._ He'd said that he couldn't, but he'd known that he was lying the moment the words escaped his lips and Ianto looked at him with those hurt blue eyes and he'd felt his heart—so old, so battered, so torn, so aching—beating just a little faster. And with all this time and distance between them, he saw things clearer than he ever had before.

_Somehow_, he was going to go back. He'd find his way back if it killed him.

**God, I love writing this stuff. And hopefully you love reading it. Don't forget to leave a token of your appreciation by reviewing, please and thank you!**


	2. Ianto

**Hey there, fellow Torchwood fanatics! I decided to write this little companion piece to "The Benefits of Distance" because while I was writing it, I began wondering what Ianto had been doing during all this end-of-the-world stuff. I decided that he'd meet Martha. I decided he'd be part of the resistance. I also decided that I couldn't really write this story if I didn't twist the established plotline a bit. Please excuse the many incongruities (I know there are more than can be counted) and just enjoy the ride! **

**Also, I just LOVE Jack and Ianto. Don't you?**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

Martha Jones couldn't see anything out the window of the ATV as it rolled slowly across the idyllic European nighttime countryside. It was a new moon, and she knew that if she were to look up, she'd see every star in the black sky. But the vehicle's windows were too narrow, and she was too anxious to waste energy on trying to maneuver to see the stars. She'd seen them at much closer range many times before, anyway.

She'd been constantly anxious for about one year now. She'd forgotten about what it felt like to be relaxed, off her guard, to have some free time. But the constant travel and the constant strain had wound her up like a spring, and she knew that she only had a little more time before the spring snapped and she broke down. She also knew that if she broke down in front of the people who she was supposed to be speaking to, then the whole effort would be in trouble. And Martha was a doctor (well, practically). She knew what she had to do to put that moment off for as long as possible—take advantage of moments like this to rest, to take a break from thinking. Relaxation was out of the question, but she might as well try to have a simple conversation.

The driver of the ATV had picked her up in Berlin and was conducting her (slowly but surely and carefully) to Paris. He hadn't said a word since he'd asked her name and handed her a cup of _excellent_ coffee as she climbed in the door. He was a young man, but like everyone she'd met over the past year, he seemed older than he really was. Had she met him under any other circumstances, she would probably have thought him to be attractive, but being on the Master's most-wanted list didn't leave much time or energy for sexual attraction. Martha realized that she didn't even know his name, and felt guilty.

"I'm sorry," she said. "I don't even know who you are. That was rude. Erm…what's your name?"

The man had obviously not been expecting such an overture, and he started as she began to speak. Flashing a slightly skeptical look, he said, "I'm Ianto." Her voice was husky and thick from misery and fatigue, but she had no trouble picking up on the Welsh accent.

"Hello, Ianto," Martha said, extending a hand for him to shake. "My name's Martha Jones."

"I know," the young man replied with a hint of a smile, shaking her hand. "Everyone knows who you are. Also, we got this part over with back in Germany."

Martha laughed, settling back in her seat. "So…you're British, then, are you?"

"Welsh," Ianto clarified, confirming her suspicions. "I'm from Cardiff."

"Cardiff!" Martha exclaimed.

"Is there a problem?" the man asked, sounding confused.

"No, no," she said. "It's just that everything seems to tie back to Cardiff. Especially recently."

"It's the rift," Ianto muttered quietly, and Martha was fairly certain that he was speaking to himself and his words were not intended for her. But something about them struck a chord in her memory.

"That's right!" she said. "A rift through time and space. It bleeds energy!" Martha looked at her companion, and giggled when she saw that Ianto's face was twisted into a very amusing expression of mixed astonishment and incredulity. "My friend. He's—well, he's a sort of doctor. He told me about it." She squinted at the young man. "How do you know about it?"

Ianto drew a shuddering breath and gripped the steering wheel with both hands. "It was sort of my job. You know…before."

Martha nodded again, but in her head she was connecting the dots of information he'd provided her with. From Cardiff…the rift…The answer to the elusive not-question hit her right between the eyes.

"You're not Torchwood, are you?"

Ianto looked at her, but he didn't seem so surprised this time. "Did your doctor tell you about Torchwood, too?"

"No," Martha said. "At least, not about the Cardiff branch. The Doctor's all about Canary Wharf."

Ianto bit his lip. "I was there, too," he whispered. "In London." He shook his head, and Martha could see his blue eyes growing shiny with tears. "It was horrible."

"Yeah…" Martha said. "I lost my cousin that day."

"My girlfriend," Ianto said. "Lisa."

There was a brief silence as both of them digested the other's misery and loss before Martha said (with more awkwardness than she'd intended), "So, Torchwood Cardiff, are you?"

"Yes," Ianto replied somewhat distantly. "Torchwood Three." His focus sharpened as he fixed her with another one of those intense blue gazes. "How _do_ you know about us?"

"I traveled with the man who told me about it," Martha said. "A long way. A long way and a short time. You probably knew him—his name was Jack. I think he was like the chief, or something." She stared out the window, trying to get a glimpse of the night sky. "I hope he's all right."

It took her a moment to realize that Ianto's silence didn't have anything to do with boredom or sleepiness. The young man had gone white, and his eyes had widened to the size of tea saucers. His breath was escaping his lips in shallow pants, and he was gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles had turned white.

"Ianto?" she said. He didn't respond, and she could tell that he wasn't paying any more attention to the country road than he was to her. "Ianto—maybe you had better stop driving for a moment." He nodded almost imperceptibly and slammed on the brakes harder that he should have. The ATV lurched violently to a stop.

He still wasn't speaking. She grabbed his arm and shook it, calling his name. "Ianto? Ianto!" Something clicked in her memory again, and she found words springing to her mouth that she hadn't even remembered hearing. "Ianto—Ianto _Jones_?" The young man nodded again, as imperceptibly as before. "Oh, my _God_! Jack told me about you! I remember!" She paused, recalling what else Jack had said about this quiet man. "_That's_ why the coffee was so good," she said. "_You_ must have made it. He said you could make one great cup of coffee."

Ianto blinked, the first reaction she'd gotten out of him. "He did? When?"

"It was sort of…" Martha trailed off, remembering the conversation with as much clarity as she could manage. _The Doctor was taunting Jack about collecting a little team, and even Martha had been a bit incredulous. Of course, she shouldn't have been surprised that anyone would follow Jack—the man was so larger-than-life that of course people looked up to him. She'd asked him about his team, and he'd been only too happy to gossip about Gwen Cooper ("The heart of the whole thing"), Toshiko Sato ("The most brilliant and shyest computer technician ever to live"), Owen Harper ("Such a lovable tool") and, of course Ianto Jones._

_He hadn't seemed as comfortable discussing the mysterious tea boy as he had the rest of the team, which Martha had immediately picked up on and the Doctor had remained typically clueless about. When she tried to work him for more information about the last team member, Jack had blushed—_Jack_ had _blushed_!—which was all the confirmation that she'd needed._

"He was your leader?" she asked carefully.

"He was—" Ianto couldn't seem to complete the sentence. His cheeks flooded red, and Martha didn't need her medical training to understand that there had been a little more between the two men than the typical employer-employee relationship. She grinned. This was _gossip_. This was something she hadn't had a chance to do for a _year_.

"So am I right in thinking that you two…" she trailed off, pulling a face that suggested clearly what she was too embarrassed to say herself.

Ianto cracked a bit of a smile himself. After a moment of consideration, he said, "We…dabble."

She giggled. "Yeah?"

He nodded, fixing her with those matter-of-fact blue eyes again. "Yeah."

Martha bit her lip before asking the question she'd really wanted to ask. "So what's his…dabbling like?"

Ianto paused, searching for the right word. "Innovative."

"Really?"

He nodded again. "Bordering on the avant guarde." His eyes lost focus and Martha watched him drift back one year, to a time when he'd found love, before the world ended. "Oh, yeah," he muttered. He looked back up at Martha, and the tears were back. "Is he…is he okay?"

Martha drew a deep breath. "I don't know," she answered honestly. "He was more or less okay when I got out."

"But it's been a year," the man said, supplying the words that Martha hadn't wanted to say. "A lot can happen in a year." Again, she had the feeling that he wasn't speaking to her. When she found the courage to look at him again, he had a big smile plastered on his face. "I wouldn't worry _too_ much, he said, restarting the ATV and beginning the vehicle's slow progress again. "It's hard to put a dent in Jack."

His smile looked so fake that it may as well have been made of plastic. It seemed in danger of cracking and flaking off at any minute, but Ianto seemed accustomed to wearing it, or at least an expression like it. _It can't be easy being the tea boy in a secret alien-fighting organization,_ she thought, watching him silently.

"Don't take me to Paris," she said impulsively. Ianto looked at her in total perplexity.

"Sorry? Why not? They're expecting you there!"

Martha shook her head. "I'm going back to Britain. It's time." Ianto shrugged and shifted the steering wheel slightly to the right. "Do you know how to get back to England?" she asked.

"I know everything," Ianto said, and for a moment, his fake smile became real.

"Ianto—" Martha said, and cut herself off with a breath. Ianto looked at her, and she could see his real feelings—the ones that his smile wasn't showing—in his eyes. "I'll get him out," she told him, meaning every word. "Jack. I'll bring him home."

Ianto regarded her for only a second, but in that second, she could feel him assessing her in every possible way. Finally, he nodded. "Thank you, Ms. Jones," he said. "I hope you do."

**I hope you weren't too bored! I hope you enjoyed it! If you did, please review!**


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